Blackblood, and Burning light
by Proffesor I.P. Freely
Summary: Yes, I know, the title sucks. This is a story that I haven't messed with in a while, and I thought if I had it on here, I might update it more. Contact if you want to beta, or if you have a name idea.


Niger Massae observed his opponent, facing off in his element. It was foolish for the young summoner to challenge him here. Niger deduced from his aura that his opponent would be using white spells, and there wasn't much mana to support that here in the fire swamps. He would have to use his own reserves, which wouldn't be anywhere near large enough. Being a gracious combatant, he let the young paladin attack first. He had ripped a hole in the fabric of space time, bringing a golden myr out. It stumbled, unfocused, suffering from summoning sickness, a feeling not unlike being spun around, upside down. Before it could get its bearings, Niger blasted it to oblivion with a blast of lightning and summoned his own creature, a toxic nim. It was large, but size wouldn't protect it from the sickness. The paladin had already summoned four more weak myrs, all of which got over their disorientation rather quickly.

The four acted in unison, either they had done this before, or they were copies, designed to do the same thing. They tore into the nim easily, its bloated and putrid flesh falling quickly to the onslaught from the group. So it was with no damage they advanced on Niger, who just smiled. The paladin saw what was happening. but he didn't even have time to warn his little soldiers as the nim regenerated from the damage, and tore into one of the myr, using it as a club on two.

The last one it picked up, and threw at the paladin, whose would have been crushed if Nigar hadn't blasted it, letting tiny bits of myr shrapnel hit the paladin, deflected by the armor. While he had been busy directing the myrs, Niger had summoned a demon, about six and a half feet tall, horns, wings, claws, and all. It's most noticeable feature were the runes carved into its flesh, pulsing like a heartbeat. Niger was holding it back, though, intent on enjoying playing with the paladin before he was destroyed.

Gathering his thoughts, the holy warrior brought forth four menmits, four legged myrs, as well as two more normal, bipedal, myrs. They were all having trouble, so they were unable to defend themselves as the demon smashed through one of the menmites, and three reassembling skeletons took care of the rest. Still Niger held back, and he could see the fear cross the paladins leaf green eyes as his ranks were once again demolished, and he was spared. He withdrew a scroll, and started chanting. Niger had no time to question that the voice sounded distinctly feminine as he was forced to leave the plane to avoid a spell more dangerous than the wrath of a god.

In his pocket dimension, where he kept weapons and the more powerful scrolls, Niger grabbed his sword, curved in an eastern fashion. that he had inwoven fire spells. He could also summon and control undead with it, as it had a key to a plane of souls.

Back in the fire swamps, the Paladin removed his helmet, showing that 'him' was the wrong pronoun, and that it was a she. Or it the most effeminate man with long shiny black hair, which was not entirely impossible. Surveying the area, she missed when Niger returned to the plane behind her, until he tapped her shoulder. Seeing her target, she growled in fury, drawing her sword, not stopping to think of how he survived the wrath of god without blessed armor, or even a mark of the sigil.

Though he didn't have his sword out when she started the swing, he had blocked it an inch from his face, and she hadn't even seen him move. Guessing, incorrectly, that he was a vampire -or something else of great but evil power- she stepped back, keeping her sword out and trying to think of a plan.

"I'd tell you my name," Niger said, interrupting her thoughts, "But I'm sure you know it. So I'll ask for yours." He said, keeping his sword out, ready to block it the second he needed to. The paladin frowned, he wasn't supposed to talk to her, he wasn't even supposed to talk. He was a creature, an evil thing, that was meant to be destroyed. Still, something about his voice, his tone, like he was used to getting what he wanted, made her reply, if only to give herself a moment more to think.

"I'm Monica, monster," she said, controlled -for now- rage burning in her eyes.

"Monica Monster. Well, that's most certainly a unique name," Niger mocked, bringing his sword down with a teleport and a swing, Monica just barely able to block it, but she could tell he was just toying with her.

"Monica Basley, and I was calling you the monster, Niger Massae." She said, still mad as she swung, but he was already gone, teleporting again.

"Ah, still unique, but much more sensible," Niger said, unfazed by the insult. He had been called far worse, by far worse. He teleported behind her, and whispered into her ear, "Why do you use white, I can feel your power, your passion. Let it loose, let the flame run free," he said, disappearing again as she swung.

This went one for a half hour, the rest of the heavy armor Monica wore weighing her down, while Niger remained completely unhindered in his strange clothes. As the battle wore on, Niger started on his own offensive, targeting the straps that held her armor on. With Monica tired and worn out by that time, it was child's play, and she was left in the simple under tunic and leggings.

"Surrender yet?" He asked, smiling widely as she dropped her longsword, panting and sweating, dropped to her knees. She hadn't given up, the fire in her eyes was still there, she just lacked the energy to move.

"Never," she thought, briefly remembering a skit in a movie she had watched a long time ago. There was a knight that had all of his limbs had cut off, and still hadn't given up. Kinda made her think that she was being the stupid one. Niger smiled, and kissed her, surprising her completely.

"Good," he said, disappearing with a flash of fire and a puff of smoke. She gaped at the spot where he had been, mouth still open slightly. She just had her first kiss, stolen by a.. whatever he was. She stood, trying to banish the thought, which was helped by her tiredness. She gathered up the armor, huffing when she saw that there wasn't anyway to fix it here, and she have to lug the entire thing back to base. Yippee.


End file.
